The Dragon's Mate
by inspirationassaulted
Summary: HPDM, Guardianship series: Last Halloween, Draco had hoped that this peaceful life would last, but he really should have known better, living with Harry. It lasted a year. It all started to go downhill with the reveal of Reggie to the public, but that wasn't the worst of it by far. Sequel to Guardianship
1. Chapter 1

**_THE SECRET SON: LORD POTTER REVEALS YOUNG HEIR_**

_Dear Readers;_

_I know you all probably think you know everything there is to know about me. After all, my life has been lived in the public eye since I first set foot in Hogwarts at the tender age of eleven, wide-eyed and staring at the wonder that is magic. Now, I'm twenty-two and a fixture in the Wizengamot, but I am still amazed by some of the things possible with the aid of magic._

_My son is one of those things._

_I know this will shock the world, but yes, I do have a son. I have two, in fact, though only one is mine by birth. The other, young Teddy, was my godson before he was orphaned by the war. Both his parents died in the Battle of Hogwarts. A couple years later I blood-adopted Teddy, at the behest of his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks, who was very ill._

_I did not keep that a secret, however, unlike Reggie. Regulus Harrison Potter, four years old, my son and heir. I've gone to great lengths to keep anyone from having any knowledge of Reggie, for two reasons. Of course, I did so for his own protection. The Ministry may have rounded up all the Death Eaters, but not all Voldemort's supporters carried the Dark Mark, and plenty would still try to hurt me if they had the chance. I will not allow Reggie to be that chance._

_The other reason is so he could live like any child should._

_I know what it is like to grow up with fame. I didn't even know I was a wizard until my eleventh birthday, and that was the same day I learned of my fame. I was thrust into a world I knew nothing about, but everyone knew me, and they watched me, and they talked about me all the time. At times, it seemed like I couldn't do anything without it ending up on the front page of the Prophet. It was strange, frustrating, and frankly quite annoying. I want to keep Reggie away from all that. _

_Don't expect to see us all in public very often._

_I hope to be able to provide Reggie with everything I never had growing up. I want him to grow up loved and educated, knowing he is free to do anything and love anyone he wants. I don't want him to grow up like I did, with the weight of a world waiting on him to save it on his shoulders. _

_Reggie, my son, live your life your way and never doubt that I love you._

_Lord Harrison James Potter  
>Earl of Gryffindor<em>

Draco laid the newspaper aside, turning to look at the man in bed next to him. Harry looked back, raising his eyebrow in a silent question.

"It was perfect," Draco told him, receiving a beautiful smile in return. "It was a good idea to do the whole release yourself."

"Well I wasn't going to give Skeeter the chance to grab the credit of doing it," Harry quipped. "Any reporter would have kept digging for secrets," he added seriously. "This way I let out only what I wanted, and there isn't any bias or comments from a reporter hoping for another by-line."

"You and your secrets," Draco murmured, tracing the exposed scars on Harry's chest. "You wear them like armour."

"Can you blame me?" Harry whispered back. Draco shook his head and kissed him gently. He curled into Harry's side, watching the sun rise through the bedroom window. He loved doing this in the mornings. His old room at the Manor had faced the west and the Slytherin dungeons were under the lake, so he had never gotten to watch the sun come up from bed before. It was one of the things he loved about Harry's room.

"Daddy! Father!"

Yeah, he supposed he loved those little things, too.

Reggie and Teddy burst into the room. Teddy took a flying leap and landed on Harry's chest, but the calmer Reggie clambered up to sit next to Draco.

"Morning, Snakeling," he said to the boy, kissing his forehead. Reggie smiled and hugged him while Teddy chattered happily about the trip they were taking to the Burrow that day. Reggie still wasn't used to the large family of redheads. He wasn't used to big, loud groups of people. He loved going to Malfoy Manor, though. Narcissa doted on the boy, and Reggie in turn adored his Grandmere.

"Alright, boys," Harry said, cutting through Teddy's excited talking, "time to go get dressed. Draco and I will meet you down in the kitchen for breakfast and then we'll go, alright?"

"Ok!"

"Ok, Daddy."

The boys dashed off again, and Draco laughed.

"I suppose that's the end of our lie-in," he said.

Harry growled and pushed him out of bed.

"I can stay here longer if you shower first," he mumbled, rolling over and pulling the blankets over his head again. Draco let him, stumbling off to the bathroom.

The first thing Harry noticed at the Burrow was that Charlie was there. That was a surprise, he hadn't known Charlie was back in England. The last time Harry had seen his friend was his birthday dinner two months before.

The second thing he noticed was how tense Draco was.

It was a hard thing not to notice, considering the way they had to hold on to each other. Draco's restriction require that Harry always travel with him, by Floo, portkey or apparition. Draco's shoulders went stiff and his spine was rigid under Harry's hand.

The third thing Harry noticed was the reason for Draco's tension.

Ron and Hermione were there. The glared at Draco as he stepped out of the Floo. Reggie, clever Reggie, seemed to pick up on their dislike of the man he called 'Father' and gripped Draco's hand with white knuckles, sheltering slightly behind his legs. Teddy, on the other hand, went rushing straight toward George. Harry was still dubious of the sweets George offered, but he figured George wouldn't hurt the boy. Teddy could learn on his own.

"They won't bother you," Harry whispered to Draco.

"Us," Draco murmured back. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Right. They won't bother us," he corrected. "We won't let them."

"Hey, mate!" Charlie greeted, clapping him on the back. Harry grinned.

"I didn't know you were back home, Charlie!"

"Yeah, I picked up a bit of an unexpected holiday from the reserve director." He rubbed the back of his head. "Just got in two days ago, actually."

"So what happened?" Harry asked with a smirk, seeing right through Charlie's vague replies. The dragonologist smiled ruefully.

"Remember Hagrid's old Norwegian Ridgeback? Good old Norberta?" Harry nodded. "She's nesting right now, and one of the eggs was deformed when she laid it. We planned to get it out soon, but I thought I could go after it myself, and, well…"

"You got crisped, didn't you?" Harry's smirk grew.

"I wasn't 'crisped'!" Charlie cried, affronted. Draco and Reggie stared at him with wide, impressed eyes. "So I was burned a little…"

"Mm," Harry hummed, grinning. Charlie was the kind of guy to think he could handle a dragon by himself and only realise he couldn't when he got burned.

"You didn't try going in with a broom?" Draco asked with a smirk of his own. Charlie scowled, but there was not heat in it.

"We can't all be Harry Potter," he muttered.

"And thank Merlin for that!" George added, coming over to them with Teddy perched on his shoulders. He shook Draco's hand first, then Harry.

"Hey!"

"Well I, for one, am glad there's only one of you," Draco said, gripping Harry's hand. "Makes me special that I have him." Harry smiled and kissed him on the cheek. Charlie snorted, and George covered Teddy's eyes.

"Don't watch, kid!" he cried exaggeratedly. "They're being mushy!"

"Funny, George."

"I try."

Draco growled low in his throat as Ronald knocked into him one too many times. Merlin, if he had his wand…Usually he didn't miss it much, since Harry would happily do any spell he needed, or he could ask one of the elves if they minded, but he so badly wanted the length of hawthorn back in his hand, if only to curse Ronald blind.

Harry might not even mind. Much.

"Alright, Ron?" Harry asked casually. Draco spun around to stare at him. Was Ronald alright?

"Yeah, fine," Weasley grunted.

"It's just that you're stumbling around rather a lot already, but you haven't had more than half a glass of Ogden's," Harry smirked, and Draco relaxed, realising what he was getting at. "I never pegged you as one who couldn't hold his liquor."

George and Charlie laughed, while Ronald flushed an ugly red that clashed horribly with his hair.

"Why you-!" he started, but Harry showed him where his wand was hidden in his hand, aimed at Ronald's heart and he went pale. He turned on his heel and stalked off.

"Told you," Harry murmured in his ear, and Draco leaned back into his chest for a moment.

"You two really are just the cutest things," Molly cried, bustling over. Draco blushed, and she tittered. "Harry dear, it is just so lovely to see you finally fall in love!" She patted his cheek. "And raising a family already! Two young boys, you must be exhausted! It's a good thing for all of you that Draco moved in."

That's one way to put it, Draco thought. He hadn't really planned on doing any childcare when he wrote that first letter to Harry, he was just looking for a way to stay out of Azkaban. He certainly hadn't expected to fall in love with Harry, or to have Harry love him in return.

"Yeah, Draco's been a real godsend," Harry told her, and she beamed.

Teddy was still going strong, but Reggie was flagging, Harry could see. Merlin knew where that boy got his energy, but it never ended! Not like Reggie, who Draco held propped on his hip while the boy's head leaned on his shoulder as he talked to Arthur.

He indulged in a mental groan and a small sigh as he saw Ron and Hermione heading toward him. He'd managed to avoid talking to just them all day, not interested in whatever vitriol they were going to spew about his chosen occupation, his son, or his lover.

"Yes?" he asked, rather coldly, as they approached.

"I can't believe you hid your son from us for three years," Hermione hissed.

Ah, so they were going to start right off then,

"And I can't believe you think what goes on in my private home is any of your business," he shot back. "Besides, why are you bringing this up again? I told everyone important to me about Reggie at Christmas, nine months ago." He sighed. "Is this about the press release? 'Cause I'm pretty sure that's my business, too."

"But you hardly said anything about him in the letter!" Hermione cried, and Ron nodded. "Who's his mother? When did you manage to have a child? We don't know anything about him!"

"And that's the way I'm going to keep it," Harry replied. "You can't honestly expect me to bare my life to the world, right? You know how much I just want privacy to live my life, and how little I actually get!"

"But when did you make the time to have him? His birthday's right after the Battle, so with a nine-month pregnancy he would have been conceived in September, but we were on the run then, and you were always with us!"

"Leave it, Hermione," Harry said flatly. "I can tell you right now that you know nothing about Reggie's origins or his bloodlines, and it's very likely you never will, unless I choose to tell you."

"So why won't you just tell us?!" Ron interjected loudly, speaking up for the first time. Harry glared at him coldly.

"Because I prefer to keep my secrets to myself. Less of a chance of them getting spread across newspapers that way. In case you've forgotten our school years, when mere rumours of my love life landed your wife in the hospital wing." Hermione flinched, reminded of the letter full of bubotuber pus she had received during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"What is it with you and secrets?" Ron demanded.

"Fine. You want one of my secrets? Fine," he growled, untucking and unbuttoning his shirt. "A month after the Battle, Dolohov, Nott and Bellatrix captured me and kept me in a cage in the cellar of an old muggle house." Ron scoffed, and Harry raised an eyebrow, fumbling with the last buttons in his anger. "You don't believe me? They tortured me daily for almost a three weeks before I managed to escape. I'm sure you remember all the scars I've gotten since you met me, right?" He pulled his shirt open, pushing it down to his elbows. "Go on, tell me how many you recognise."

Hermione's hand flew to cover her mouth. Ron's eyes went wide as he looked over the scarred, burned canvas of Harry's chest.

"Of course," he continued in a conversational tone, "only about some curses leave scars. Some of the worst don't cut or burn. The Cruciatus, for example. That was always Bellatrix's favourite, remember?" He laughed without humour. "I always will. Once a day for three weeks. At least once a day. I wondered a lot if I was going mad, or if I was already too far gone."

The rest of the Weasleys had noticed them by now and were staring in silent shock. A brush of cool fingertips across the back of Harry's neck told him Draco had joined them.

"How…how did you escape?" Hermione whispered.

"I killed them," Harry replied flatly, without emotion. "Pure wandless magic and desperation. Then I called Kreacher to take me home."

"The remains of Bellatrix Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov and both Theodore Notts were brought into the Ministry anonymously," Ron muttered, remembering. "I was in the Auror Academy then, it was all anyone talked about for days." Harry smiled coldly.

"My doing. Well, most of it. Nott killed his own son." He swallowed hard, remembering, and Draco's fingers returned to brush across his neck again.

"Mate-"

"Don't." Harry cut him off abruptly. "Call me mate. We aren't mates anymore, not after the way neither of you have any support for the decisions I've made."

Hermione looked crestfallen, but Ron just looked mad. Harry turned away, buttoning his shirt up again.

"C'mon, love," he said to Draco, still holding a sleepy Reggie, "let's go home. Teddy!"

They bundled into the Floo, leaving the Burrow behind in shocked silence.


	2. Chapter 2

"Merlin, Draco, you're going to pull your robes to shreds if you try to straighten them out anymore," Harry chided. Draco scowled, tugging on the poor fabric even harder. Harry caught his hands and pulled them away. "Draco, love, it's fine. You look gorgeous, just like always. No one will even look at the bride with you there. So can you please stop worrying?"

Draco sighed, giving in. "A year," he whispered. "Over a year, really, since anyone saw me in public." He wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and buried his face in the crook of his neck. "They're all going to hate me still."

Harry held onto him tightly. "They might," he agreed. "And they're allowed to. They can glare and whisper all they want, because it doesn't matter, understand? They can't do anything more than that, not without pissing off two very well-respected and powerful war heroes."

"I thought you hated being known as a war hero?" Draco asked, leaning back to meet Harry's eye. That was probably the biggest wrong idea he'd had in school. Harry detested being known as the Boy-Who-Lived, or the Chosen One, or the Saviour. He only barely got along with being Lord Too-Many-Titles, as Draco sometimes called him on better days.

Harry heaved a sigh. "I do, but no one else seems to agree, so I might as well do something with it. Like keep people in line in public."

Draco cracked a smile, letting go of Harry and fixing all the wrinkles he'd just put in the man's robes, much to Harry's annoyance. Well, Harry just needed to accept that a Malfoy never goes anywhere looking less than perfect, and, Potter though he might be, Harry was a Malfoy now.

Though, he would admit that Harry had gotten quite good at looking quite good since Hogwarts. Long gone were the days of ratty muggle clothes ten sizes too big. Taking his seats on the Wizengamot had done wonders for his image. He even made wedding party robes look like they were made just for him.

It helped that Longbottom had chosen good colours, of course. Harry's robes, as best man, were a deep earthy green, with gold and blue accents. They fastened over his torso with small bronze buttons, before falling open and away to show grey trousers and shiny black shoes.

Draco actually felt plain next to him, in simple, if expensive, robes of dove grey linen over a starched white shirt and darker grey trousers. His emerald green tie, his only splash of colour, was tucked into a silver silk vest.

He fiddled with his tracking bracelet, visible whenever the sleeve of his robes pulled away, while Harry fastened up his cufflinks.

"Daddy!" Reggie burst into the room laughing. He had a miniature portrait, Tom Riddle's, in his hand. "You look fancy!"

Harry laughed, crouching down to meet his son's eye. "Thank you, Snakeling," he chuckled. "Did you want something?"

"No, but Tom did," Reggie admitted, handing over the portrait. Draco was still amazed at how Harry managed to almost become- dare he think it?- friends with the former Dark Lord. Reggie, of course, was completely attached to him, if only because he was the only person that spoke Parseltongue with him regularly, but even Harry had long conversations with the portrait. Apparently, most of Harry's Wizengamot proposals were modified versions of the Dark Lord's original ideals, before he went mad. They were even talking about making a larger copy for Harry to hang in his office!

"I want to go with you to the wedding," Reggie pouted, as Harry and the portrait hissed at each other.

"No you don't," Draco replied. "There's going to be people everywhere, all over the place, and you don't like lots of people." Reggie pouted even more, but Draco just smirked. "Huge crowds. Crowds of _grown-ups!_ All sitting around and trying to be pretty and talking about grown-up things. Your little brain would positively _melt_."

"It does sound boring," Reggie said, scrunching up his nose. "I'm glad I'm staying here with Teddy!" he decided.

"I'll bring you both back a slice of cake, then," Harry said, handing the portrait back to Reggie. "Work hard at your lessons with Tom tonight, alright? Tomorrow you can show me what you did." Reggie beamed at him and hugged them both before dashing out of the room, already hissing at the portrait.

"Lessons?" Draco asked as they headed toward the Floo.

"Just in Parsel right now," Harry assured him. "There's a written form, and Tom's been teaching us both, though Reggie has a lot more time to learn than I do." He smirked at Draco. "What, did you really think I would let a Dark Lord teach my son whatever caught his fancy? No, he's not allowed to learn about any Dark magic until he's twelve."

Draco skidded to a halt on the stairs, gaping at Harry. "You're really going to teach him Dark magic?!"

Harry shrugged. "Why not? It's in his blood, what with the Blacks, the Slytherins, the Gaunts, hell, even the Peverells weren't Light. _I'm_ not Light. He's Grey, at the very least, so why try to force him to reject a part of himself? Just because the Ministry bans it doesn't mean it's all evil." He prodded Draco into motion again with a hand on his back. "He's going to be powerful; he already is. We're just going to make sure he knows how and when to use that power."

Draco nodded, putting the idea into the back of his mind for longer thought later, when he had the time. "So what did the Dark Lord want?"

Harry frowned. "Call him Tom. He isn't that anymore."

"Habit," Draco muttered. "What did Tom want, then?"

"Reggie's magic is…destabilizing, I guess. Like last year." Draco shuddered at the memory of the last October, when Harry had burned like a phoenix on that deserted moor. "I'll need to keep an eye on him, make sure I catch it again. He's still not old enough to control the overflow."

And with that cheery thought, they both stepped into the Floo, Draco barely taking a moment to brace himself before they were whisked away.

"Harry," a familiar Scottish voice greeted as they stepped out of the Floo. Harry smiled.

"Minerva," he replied, lightly grasping the Headmistress' fingers. She had never liked the way purebloods greeted with hand kisses. He looked around the office. "Hello, sir," he said politely to Dumbledore's portrait.

"Hello, my dear boy," Dumbledore answered, eyes twinkling. "And hello, Mr Malfoy," he added, looking over at Draco, who was still attached to Harry's other hand. Harry turned, pleased to see that McGonagall had not even hesitated a second before offering her hand to Draco, who followed Harry's lead in dispensing with the kiss.

"No greeting for your ancestor, I suppose?" a snide voice commented.

Harry smirked, always amused by the speaker. "My apologies, Grandfather Phineas, I had not realised I should also greet those people I live with," he replied. "Greetings, Grandfather Phineas," he said in his loftiest manner, making Phineas Nigellus snort. "My sincerest greetings, Draco," Harry continued, bowing slightly to Draco.

Draco bowed deeply, fighting a smile. "My warmest salutations, Lord Potter," he replied in his best superior pureblood voice. Even Minerva McGonagall laughed. "My greetings to you as well, Grandfather Phineas."

"If you have all finished amusing yourselves, I believe Lord Potter should be gathering with the rest of the wedding party at the moment," Phineas informed them, but he too was smirking.

"Oh!" Harry glanced at his pocket watch and realised Phineas was right. "Yeah, I do. We'll see you at the reception, Minerva."

The Headmistress waved them off as they hurried down the stairs and out to the grounds. Harry left Draco in George's company and care in Greenhouse Three, which had been cleared in the middle for the ceremony. Luna and her bridesmaids were getting ready in Greenhouse One, but Harry had to go to Greenhouse Six, where Neville was.

"There he is!" Seamus Finnigan clapped him on the shoulder as he walked in. "The best man! We nearly thought you were lost!" Dean Thomas, the last of the groomsmen, rolled his eyes in the background, and Neville chuckled weakly.

"When have I ever gotten lost at Hogwarts?" Harry replied, shaking first Seamus' hand, then Dean's. "Alright, Nev?" he asked, squeezing his friend's shoulder. He could feel the tiny tremors running through his body.

"I- yeah, I think so," Neville answered, his voice shaky.

"Not nervous, are you?" Harry grinned.

"Maybe a little," Neville admitted, in what was probably the understatement of the year. "I'll be fine."

"Yeah you will," Harry decided. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "It's probably just the Wrackspurts."

Neville burst out laughing, tension leaving his body immediately. "Merlin knows where she gets those creatures from," he said as he calmed, before drawing Harry into a swift, tight hug. "I'm glad you're here, Harry."

"Me too." He straighten his old friend's robes one last time. "Ready?"

Neville gave him a bright smile, his face glowing with happiness. "Ready."

Draco was almost used to the glares and pointed whispering by the time pudding was served. He sat between Luna and Harry, which was almost painfully uncomfortable, until Luna had turned to him over the salad and told him she didn't blame him for her captivity at the Manor, since he never had any part in it and he had always treated her as well as he could. It was possibly the only thing he had heard her say without mentioning any imaginary creatures.

Harry was telling the story of the time in Second Year when he and Ronald had snuck into the Slytherin dungeons Polyjuiced as Crabbe and Goyle, which was met with uproarious laughter from Thomas and Finnigan. Ginerva Weasley, Luna's maid of honour (though 'maid' was definitely a misleading title) was next to Thomas, as they were apparently together, though that never stopped her from giving Harry endless sad looks over the meal.

Draco looked up to see her watching Harry's laughter with a hungry look on her face again and was suddenly tired of it. He slid a hand along the back of Harry's neck, threading his fingers into barely-tamed black hair. He smirked in triumph when Harry hummed and leaned into his touch, his eyes fluttering closed. Something flashed in Ginerva's eyes and she slid her hand up Thomas' leg instead.

Did Draco care? No he did not! He had his man, after all.

"You think you should start the dancing soon, Lord and Lady Longbottom?" Harry asked, startling Neville out of his quiet conversation with Luna. Neville went a little pale, but Luna just smiled dreamily and dragged him off to the dancing area.

"Harry!" he hissed.

Harry just laughed and shook his head, swiping up the last of the chocolate sauce on his plate with his finger and popping it in his mouth. "One dance on your own, Nev, just 'cause you have to, and then Draco and I will take pity on you."

Draco whirled to face him. "What?!"

"Oh, don't think you're getting out of dancing tonight, mister," Harry teased. "I spent _ages_ learning to dance after the war and I feel like showing it off!" He smirked. "Unless you can't dance, of course."

"Of course I can bloody dance!" Draco protested. Harry's smirked widened and he groaned, realizing he'd just fallen into Harry's trap.

"Great, then we're dancing." Draco had his fork plucked out of his hand and was dragged out of his seat to go stand at the edge of the dance floor with the rest of the watchers to wait for the next song. People glared at him and moved away, muttering, but Harry's arm was warm around his waist and Draco frankly didn't give a flying fuck what they thought because Harry loved him and that was enough.

Harry clapped politely, smiling softly as Neville and Luna finished their dance with a kiss. He kissed Draco on the cheek. "Still up for this?" he murmured into Draco's ear. Draco just smiled and pulled him out onto the floor, ignoring the storm of whispers that started up. Harry folded him up in his arms and Draco sighed happily and leaned into him.

"I'm up for anything with you."

Harry spun Draco again and dipped him, enjoying the blush that spread across his cheeks. Someone whistled in the crowd. Harry spotted George grinning at him from a nearby table and gave him a two-finger salute. George just twiddled his fingers at him in reply.

He pulled Draco up into his arms again, holding him close and buried his nose in fine, blond hair. He felt Draco press his lip against his neck briefly.

"I like this," Draco murmured.

"I do too," Harry admitted. "I never would have thought, after Fourth Year."

Draco laughed. "Oh Merlin, the Yule Ball! You were hopeless!"

"Maybe it was just my date," Harry chuckled. "We seem to be just fine."

"Sure, blame the Patil girl," Draco smirked. "It had nothing to do with the scrawny, clumsy boy you were then."

"Then what makes me so good now?"

"Now you're fishing for compliments," Draco accused.

"Might it have anything to do with my fine physique and natural gra-" he cut off suddenly as pain shot through his chest. Alarm bells rang in his head, making him grab his temples.

"Harry?" Draco sounded worried, scared. "Harry?!" He grabbed Harry's wrists, staring into his face.

"The wards," Harry ground out. "The wards at home, they're broken. Someone broke in."

"What?" Draco gasped, but Harry was already dragging him off the floor and out the door into the night air. "Harry, where are we going? The Floo's in McGonagall's office."

"We're not taking the Floo," he grunted. He wrapped a tight arm around Draco's waist and ripped through the ancient Hogwarts anti-Apparition wards with a sound like a thunderclap.

Grimmauld Place was in shambles when they arrived. Spell fire marks scorched the walls, furniture was torn apart, several windows shattered. Heart in his toes, but still somehow in his throat, Harry sprinted for the stairs, praying to anything that might listen that both boys were safe in their rooms.

"REGGIE! TEDDY!" he screamed, barely noticing Draco pounding up the stairs behind him. Teddy's door was alright, it was fine, it was still locked. Harry threw it open. "Teddy!"

"Daddy!" The boy barrelled into his legs, sobbing.

"Teddy, is Reggie ok?" he asked desperately.

"I don't know, Daddy! I don't know!" Draco stepped forward to pry Teddy off his legs and carry him, murmuring softly to the sobbing boy, but Harry couldn't see anything beyond Reggie's shut door.

It looked untouched.

He blasted it open.

The rest of the room was untouched, too. And empty.

No Reggie.

_Harry!_ a voice hissed at him from the table. Tom's portrait sat on the desk, open to the room.

_Tom?_ He grabbed the portrait desperately. _Tom, where is he?!_

_I don't know,_ Tom said softly, sadly, hopelessly. _Harry, what happened?_

"Harry?" Draco stood in the doorway, Teddy crying into his shirt.

"He's gone," he told them both. "He's gone, they took him, THEY TOOK MY _SON!"_

_Oh, Harry._

Draco grabbed him, holding him tight to himself and Teddy as he cried.

"…_Reggie_…"


	3. Chapter 3

"Where is he?"

Draco threw back the last of his firewhiskey. "Upstairs with Tom and Regulus, I think." He filled his glass again. "I took his wand and all his knives, so he can't go running off. Easily, anyway."

"What about you?"

"I'm…_fuck_, Charlie." His head fell into his hands. "I don't think it's really hit me yet, you know? But it already hurts, just to see him." It did. Like a knife to the gut. No, Draco knew what that felt like.

This was worse.

Charlie pried his fingers off his glass, which he was gripping so hard it was in serious danger of shattering. "Talk to me, Draco," he said softly, trying to keep Draco from getting lost in his head.

"Did he ever tell you about Reggie's birth?"

"No," Charlie admitted, "just that he was a ritual child with three fathers."

"Harry was kidnapped after the War, you know. Held captive, tortured, partially starved, all that." Charlie nodded. Harry had said part of it at the Burrow once. "They wanted his blood for an Olde Magick ritual, to create an heir from two magically powerful people. The last of the Death Eaters were making an heir to Lord Voldemort, using the blood of the only two people to ever beat him: Harry Potter, and Regulus Black."

"_Merlin_," Charlie breathed.

Draco pushed on, ignoring the voice in his head that said Harry wouldn't like having his secrets spilled out like this. "Harry died in the Battle, I'm not sure if you know. Voldemort killed him. It…messed him up for a while. He didn't feel things, he wasn't really living, just going through the motions. All they did to him, and he never once screamed. He's proud of that.

"They made Theo Nott guard him. Theo, he never wanted to be a Death Eater. He was Dark, yes, but he was never a bigot. Harry said Theo was the first person he spoke to since Voldemort died. Theo was the first one he ever fell in love with. A sudden, desperate kind of love, but for him it was a reason to fight, to try to survive when he was counting down the days until he died.

"But Theo's father killed him on the last night, right in front of Harry. I guess he killed him slowly and painfully, so it would hurt them both." He took another drink of firewhiskey. "So he accepted that he was going to die. He had to prepare himself to die, _again_, for –what?- the third time in two months. He was going to just over and let them kill him, because without Theo, he didn't know how to live anymore.

"He says that's when he saw Reggie's eyes for the first time."

"He has Harry's eyes," Charlie said slowly.

Draco nodded. "Hard to ignore that he's Harry's son. He lived to protect his son. He still does. Such a Gryffindor, he never could just live for himself." Draco tried to laugh, but it sounded too much like a sob to fool anyone.

That was when the wall broke. Tears rolled down Draco's face, hard and fast. "Oh, _gods_, Charlie, what are we going to do?" he cried. "I love Reggie. He calls me Father, he's my son and I need him and he's not even mine!" Charlie wrapped strong arms around him and he buried his face in the redhead's shoulder. "How are we going to make it through this?"

"Shh, hush Draco," Charlie whispered, smoothing a hand down Draco's back. "We're all going to make it through, alright? You're strong, we're _all_ strong." He pulled back, looking at Draco intently. "It _will_ work out," he said with conviction. "It _will_, because we will _make it_."

"Draco?" George stood in the doorway, pale underneath his freckles. "Kingsley and Robards are here. Where's Harry?"

"In the portrait gallery," Draco said shakily, wiping away his tears. Charlie gave him one last squeeze of the shoulder as he stood. "It's a family room. I'll get him."

Harry gave his statement in a blank, hollow voice that scared Draco. Then he sat in his chair and stared, unblinkingly, at nothing. He seemed to be carved from stone. Draco could already see how…empty Harry must have been after his death.

How strong do you have to be, to keep living when all you want to do is stop?

He shook away the thought, focusing on the conversation instead.

"The safety of your wards has been compromised," Head Auror Robards was saying. "We don't know who organised this attack, or what they want, so we have no way of knowing if they'll come back. Obviously, you can't stay here until we do know."

Robards paused, clearly expecting Harry to say something in response, but Harry just continued to stare.

"W-Well," Robards continued, shaken, "we want to move you out to a Ministry safe house in the meantime-"

"We're going to the Manor," Draco told him. Robards and Shacklebolt turned surprised faces his way, but Draco just stared back. "We're not going to some tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere that no one can get to except every damn Ministry of Magic employee. We're not going to be burdened by a twenty-four hour Auror guard either," he pointed at Robards. "We're going to Malfoy Manor to be with my mother, and only a very select few Aurors will have permission to get through the wards."

"Mr Malfoy," Shacklebolt began, but Draco whirled on him next.

"Frankly, Minister, I don't give a _fuck_ about my Wizengamot restrictions, and I think you'll accept that these might be exceptional circumstances. Harry and I will take Teddy and Charlie Weasley, and we will go to the Manor to be with my mother, because _we are a family_ and we _need_ to be together as a family."

Shacklebolt and Robards were shocked into silence when he finished, breathing hard. After a long, tense moment, Shacklebolt nodded.

"Very well, Mr Malfoy," he said quietly. "I understand."

"Minister!" Robards protested, but Shacklebolt held up a hand to stop him.

"No, he's right, Gawain." He turned back to Draco. "I'll deal with the Wizengamot. I doubt anyone will protest, if only because of Harry."

Draco slumped slightly in relief. "Thank you."

"Right," Robards scowled. "John Dawlish will head the investigation, so he'll come to the Manor," he looked like the word tasted foul in his mouth, "whenever we have an update."

"_No_," Harry spoke up, icy determination in his voice. When he raised his eyes to meet Robards', they burned, like dragonfire. "No."

"I'm…sorry?" Robards frowned, now completely lost.

"I said no," Harry stood, seeming to tower over all of them. "Williamson will take the case. I don't trust Dawlish as far as I can throw him, I never have. You'll put Williamson on the case for official purposes, but I will lead it."

"Harry, I can't just do that!" Robards threw his hands into the air. "You are not an Auror, you're a bloody _nobleman!_ You have no experience leading an official investigation, much less the authority to do so!"

"I think you'll find, when it comes to my son, I have the authority to do pretty much whatever the fuck I want," Harry replied coldly. "I have more power than you will ever know, Gawain, and that's _without_ my name. I _will_ lead the investigation, Williamson _will_ be the Senior Investigation Auror, and you _will_ get over it. Understood?"

Harry's power was spreading out, filling the room with cold and crackling electricity in a way Draco hadn't felt since his first few weeks in Grimmauld Place. It pushed down on Robards, trying to force him to his knees in front of Harry, press him into submission.

Robards bowed his head. "Yes, _Lord Potter_," he gritted out.

Harry slumped against him as soon as Shacklebolt and Robards left. Draco held him tightly, speaking over his shoulder to the pair of Weasleys.

"George, can you deal with the publicity?" George nodded. "Good. Try to keep it out of the papers as long as possible. We're known for being ridiculously secretive, so that might work to our favour. No one will expect to see us all in public anyway."

"What about your sudden disappearance from Nev's wedding?" George pointed out.

Draco sighed. "Fuck, I don't care. We just had to get home and have a shag? I don't think anyone missed us dancing like that. People will probably think we just got together or something. Sexual tension, everyone will believe it." George nodded. "I'll get my mother to let you through the wards, drop by the Manor when you need to, alright?"

"Got it."

Draco turned to Charlie, smoothing his hand down Harry's spine. He'd gone back to his blank staring. "I didn't mean to drag you in like that, I'm sorry. If you need to go back to Romania or something-"

"Draco," Charlie cut him off. "Don't be stupid. Of course I'm going with you. All you did was save me the trouble of inviting myself."

"Ok then," Draco smiled weakly. "If you could go get Teddy, we'll leave now."

Narcissa listened to their story without a word. A single tear rolled down her face, but she wiped it away impatiently as she took hold of a shell-shocked Teddy and took him to his room. Charlie followed them, leaving Draco to guide Harry to their room.

He managed to get Harry out of his shirt and trousers and into bed, but nothing he did got any reaction. He was lost in his head again. Draco wondered if it was a way to cope. Harry had always been so alive, so passionate, in school. He was always overflowing with emotion.

What do you do when all of that turns into pain? Maybe shutting down was the only way he kept his mind in one piece.

Draco was so afraid.

He curled around Harry under the covers, his head on Harry's chest. He knew neither of them would sleep that night. How could they? All they could do was stare into the dark and try not to think.

"Draco?" Harry whispered, somewhere in the darkest point of the night.

"We'll find him, Harry," Draco replied softly. "I promise." He felt Harry raise his hand and slowly, tentatively, weave his fingers through his hair. "_I promise_," he repeated, rubbing a thumb gently across Harry's cheek.

"I love you," he said, and Draco tried not to think about how much it sounded like a last chance.


	4. Chapter 4

Teddy was quiet, and it was all wrong. Teddy was an energetic, rambunctious, smiling child that never stopped moving except to pass out each night. He wasn't meant to sit and stare listlessly into his food.

Narcissa shared a concerned look over the table with Draco. "Teddy, is there anything you want to do this afternoon?" Teddy shrugged, poking at his fish. Narcissa looked up at Draco again. "Would you like to see the gardens?" He just shrugged again.

Draco caught his mother's eye and nodded. Teddy needed to be outside again. When the boy pushed his half-full plate away, she got him up and led him outside by the hand.

"How's Harry going with the investigation?" Charlie asked quietly.

Draco frowned, rubbing his forehead. "Not…too well, I think. I get the impression that his contacts don't stretch that far into the remaining would-be Death Eaters." He sneered at the last words. "He isn't all that keen on sharing."

"Not even at the best of times," Charlie agreed with a sigh.

"No, and especially now." He pushed back from the table and stood. "I'll see you at dinner, Charlie."

"Yeah, I'll see if I can't find something to do."

"Feel free to use the library," Draco said from the door. He heard Charlie grunt in acknowledgement as he left, climbing the stairs to his father's study.

He felt like the world was weighing down on him with every step.

A glint of scales caught his eye as he passed a window. A massive Hungarian Horntail was curled up in the back garden, half behind the ivy screen. Draco changed course to go sit with it.

"Harry?" he said softly, coming up on the dragon. Harry puffed smoke out of his nostrils and shifted one wing to the side. Draco sat and leaned against his flank, so Harry shifted the wing back to cover him like a leathery tent. "Nothing new?"

Harry hummed, his flank vibrating against Draco's back. Draco ran a hand across his scales, feeling the shift from hard, sharp amour to the softer, smoother scales of his belly. Thunder rumbled faintly through the sky and raindrops began to fall. Harry lifted his wing to cover Draco entirely, curling further so his head was by Draco's legs.

"We'll think of something," he said quietly, rubbing the bony crest over Harry's eye. "We'll never give up on Reggie."

Harry hummed deep in his chest again.

Harry shifted, unable to sleep. Everything touching him was too much. The sheets, his clothes, Draco' head on his chest, it itched and burned. He moved Draco gently to the side and sat up, moving to stand by the open window. The cold October air should have chilled him quickly, but it barely felt cool.

Shit. Not now.

"Harry?" Draco murmured, half-asleep. "What's wrong?"

"Are the glowing?" he asked suddenly, turning on a heel to face him.

"What?"

"My eyes. Are they glowing."

"Um," Draco shook himself awake and peered closely at him, "a bit?"

"No," he groaned as he ran his hands through his hair, clenching and pulling. "I can't deal with an overflow right now!"

Draco gasped. "An overflow!" He stared at Harry with wide eyes, the kind of expression that appeared in the middle of a sudden revelation.

"What?"

"Reggie's magic," Draco breathed. "It was unstable already when-"

"When he was taken," Harry finished, going stock still. _Fuck!_ He leapt into action, snatching Tom's portrait from the desk and ripping it open.

"Harry, what the hell!" Tom exclaimed indignantly.

"Could unstable magic rip wards?" he demanded in a rush. Tom stared at him, and Harry growled. "Unstable, untrained, mixed magic, in an overflow, could it rip wards?!"

"What are you talking about?"

_Fuck, Tom!_ Harry growled and threw the portrait across the room, where it thumped into Draco's chest as he scrambled to catch it. He barely noticed Draco explaining as he paced.

"Harry has all your magic, I think, or your Horcrux's magic, but it's all Dark and it doesn't react well with his all the time," he was saying. "It destabilises and overflows once a year, and he has to burn it out as Fiendfyre. Reggie has the same problem, it just started last year. He has too much magic and he can't deal with it all."

"How did you handle it last year?" Tom asked, all serious now.

"Harry?"

Harry took the portrait back. "I took it into myself. It triggered my overflow. Would his be enough to break wards?"

Tom frowned, deep in thought. "How much damage would yours do?"

"I could flatten the Ministry if I wanted to."

"And if you didn't control it?"

"I would obliterate Hogwarts," Harry said flatly. He could hear Draco choke in the background. "I…don't know how much power Reggie has," he admitted. "I wasn't really thinking about it at the time."

"He probably could," Tom said slowly, "as long as he isn't anywhere with ancient wards. But Harry," he looked up, "you'll probably need to be there when it starts. Before he hurts himself."

_SHIT!_ He rubbed his forehead, hard. "There has to be some way we can find him!"

"Do…would you object to using a Dark ritual?" Tom asked carefully.

"Do…would you object to using a Dark ritual?"

Draco watched Harry closely. He knew Harry said that he sometimes used Dark magic, but basic spells and the rituals were entirely different beings.

"Just tell me," Harry growled.

"Draco," Draco startled when Tom called him and beckoned him closer. "I left a few books in your father's study. In his Dark Arts collection. Show Harry, you will need his wand and your blood."

Draco took Harry by the hand and tore off through the Manor, Harry hard on his heels. He threw open the door to the study and dragged Harry over to the far bookcase. Grabbing the letter opener off the desk, he cut open his palm and pressed it to the top shelf. Harry tapped it with his wand, and the bookcase disappeared, creating a doorway to a small room full of ancient tomes.

"Find _Rituals of Families Ancient_," Tom ordered, pointing to the back of the room. "Look for the ritual called 'Returning the Childe.'"

Harry tore through the book, searching for the right page. He paused, scanning the page, then reading more carefully.

"Harry?" Draco asked.

"Damn it Tom," Harry hissed. "You'd better have left something else around here, because we might find ourselves a little short on your blood!"

"Back shelf," Tom gestured to a silver ring, shaped like a coiled cobra, tucked away in the corner. "It was one of my favourites, it will work."

"Good." Harry slammed the dusty book shut and grabbed the ring, dragging Draco out of the hidden room. "Now I have to destroy half your garden."

Harry stood on shaky legs at the end of the ritual, his bare chest covered in blood and slowly healing cuts. Draco stared at him, a slash of pale on the scorched ground, nearly grey with fear and he clutched Tom's portrait.

None of that mattered. Not now that he could feel Reggie's magic, attached to his like a tether. He sank into it, touching Reggie's core and consciousness, feeling what he was feeling.

He was in a smallish space, surrounded by Dark magical cores. Motionless but not dead, they must have been sleeping. None of them were weak, but all of them together couldn't hold a candle to Harry when he let go. Powerful wards surrounded him, but they were all made to defend against outside attacks, not internal pressure. He could already feel the boy's magic roiling inside him like a storm. If Reggie went into meltdown mode, the building would be vaporised.

It wouldn't get that far. No, Harry was coming to get him, wand blazing, and woe be to any that stood in his way. They would soon learn why Antonin Dolohov's remains had been delivered in a jar.

"I know where he is," he said, and he did, even if it wasn't exactly Apparation coordinates. He would find his son. He looked at Draco carefully. "Kreacher," he called.

"Master Harry called," the elf said, bowing as he appeared.

"Bring me the wands from the family artefact room," he ordered.

"All of them, Master?" the elf questioned, looking at him curiously.

"No, just the-" he began, but Tom interrupted him.

_Harry, take it,_ he said. _You need it._

Harry glanced at him and nodded. "Yes, Kreacher. All of them."

The elf popped away for an instant before reappearing, three wands in his hand. Harry handed over his holly wand and accepted the Elder Wand in its place. He took up the next, a length of hawthorn, holding it gently before handing it to Draco.

"Harry, I can't-" Draco stuttered, but Harry just shoved it into his hand.

"Take it. You're coming with me and I won't let you be unarmed." Draco nodded, his expression going hard as he wrapped his hand around it.

Harry hesitated at the third wand. It was one he was never quite comfortable with keeping. He had never wanted to use it. He hadn't even wanted to use the Elder Wand, much less this one.

_Take it,_ Tom insisted. _It's already tainted with Death._

Harry picked up the last wand with a shudder, feeling the taint of it creep over his skin. The part of his magic that was Voldemort's roared through him, overjoyed at being reunited with his wand. The bone-white length of yew looked so wrong in his left hand, the Elder Wand in his right, but he gripped them both tightly and dismissed Kreacher.

Draco met his eyes with determination. "Ready?"

"Let's go," he replied. He closed his eyes and dropped into his core, feeling his magic burn and boil around him, wrapping himself in dragonfire and scales, fanning his wings as he settled into his Horntail body. Draco hauled himself up, strapping himself into the harness Harry wore, slapping his neck as a signal.

Harry roared and launched himself into the air, painting the night sky with a column of fire.


	5. Chapter 5

Somewhere, in the tiny part of his mind not completely focused on the upcoming slaughter he would be doing, Draco wondered what kind of picture he made, riding dragonback through the night sky. It was probably fantastic.

The rest of his mind, however, was focused on the magic roaring through him, rejoicing over his reconnection with his wand. It was the first time he'd held the length of hawthorn since he had lost it to Harry in the war, and he felt like he could have destroyed Voldemort by himself.

Well, that and hanging onto Harry for dear life. The dragon was flying north faster than any broom Draco had ever ridden, and they were so high up that the cities below them looked like faraway constellations.

Draco figured they were somewhere over the Cotswolds when Harry let out a snort of flame from his nostrils. Draco took it as a warning and leaned forward, tightening his grip on the leather harness. Good thing he did, as Harry tucked his wings into his sides and dropped like a stone out of the sky. He let loose an earth-shaking roar and a white-hot column of fire.

Closer to the ground, Draco could see a dilapidated manor house. A few people were running for the door, off the overgrown lawn. Draco braced himself as Harry hit the ground like a ton of rocks, landing on an unfortunate slow man in black robes. He swung down using the spikes on Harry's neck as the man screamed and turned in time to see Harry rip the man apart and incinerate him.

His hands dripped with the unknown man's blood when he shifted back. Draco's gaze met eyes that glowed brightly and still had a dragon's slit pupil. Wild, rage fuelled magic whipped around him, Light and Dark sparking off each other.

"Inside?" he asked, readjusting his grip on his wand.

Harry jerked a nod and let out a noise that was somewhere between Parseltongue and a dragon's growl. He spun on a heel and stalked toward the manor. Draco followed without question.

Blood would flow tonight.

Harry didn't know where they were. He didn't know who he had just killed, and he didn't care. All he knew was that they had his son.

And he knew they would die tonight.

Dark magic ran through his veins, heavy and oily. Voldemort's, and his own Darkness. It hadn't run so free since the night Reggie was born.

A single, powerful blast from the Elder Wand blasted apart wards and the front door together. The tether to Reggie, created during the ritual, was pulling straight down through the floor. Harry considered blasting through the floor, but he didn't want to hurt Reggie accidentally.

"Potter!" someone shouted, coming toward them. Harry flicked his curse aside with the Elder Wand. A second flick, of Voldemort's yew wand this time, blasted his gut apart, painting the walls with gore.

"Downstairs!" he called to Draco. The blonde grunted in understanding, already duelling with another black-robed man. Harry watched just long enough to know that Draco had it handled before searching for the door to the cellar.

He blasted that open too. And the two figures behind it.

"DADDY!" Reggie's scream echoed through the stone cellar. Harry snarled, holding a third black-robed man by the throat.

_Daddy's coming, Reggie,_ he hissed as he wrapped the man in Voldemort's oily magic. The man melted, just like Dolohov had, and liquid flesh ran over Harry's fingers and down his arm.

He tossed the clean skeleton aside carelessly, stepping through the puddles of gore with his bare feet as he ripped down the wards on the last door between him and his son.

_I'm here now, Snakeling._

Draco stepped over his last opponent with a sneer, leaving the man bound and unconscious in the bloody entrance hall.

He might not be a killer, but that didn't mean he wouldn't let Harry have them. They didn't deserve to live after taking his boy.

The cellar was a scene from a nightmare. Draco nudged aside some bastard's skull with his toe and stepped around a puddle of something he didn't even want to contemplate before he reached Harry and Reggie.

"Father!"

"Reggie!" Draco dropped into a crouch and the four-year-old hit his chest at a dead run. He wrapped small arms and legs around Draco's torso as he stood. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

Reggie shook his head. "Just tired. And hungry." He buried his face in Draco's shoulder. "My magic was hurting and itchy, but Daddy made it go away."

Draco's head snapped up. "Harry?" he asked. The dark-haired man was pale beneath the blood splattered across his skin. His shoulders were hunched and his fists clenched and shaking.

"Harry?"

Draco's voice seemed to come from a distance, barely making through the roar in Harry's ears. He was panting, trying to hold the magic back just long enough to get Reggie and Draco out.

Because nothing in that manor house would survive once he let it go.

"Go, Draco," he gritted out. He held out the two wands in his grip. "Take these and get Reggie to the Manor."

"No, Harry-"

"GO!" he roared. His hold on the magic slipped, and a small column of Fiendfyre came out of his mouth with the word.

Draco's eyes went wide and he nodded once before apparating away, holding tightly to Reggie.

Harry let go of the magic, and world around him vanished into roaring Fiendfyre.

Draco landed in the center of the charred circle in the back garden where Harry had done the ritual and buckled, hitting his knees.

"Charlie!" he shouted, as loud as he could. "Mum!"

"Draco?"

Charlie was running for them, shirtless and wand out. Narcissa was close behind him, her silk dressing gown flapping around her knees and flaxen hair loose down her back.

"Draco!" she called. "Reggie?"

"Grandmere!" Reggie ran to her and let her scoop him up.

"Draco, what happened?" Charlie asked, helping Draco up off the ground. "Where's Harry?"

"Everything we just did is very illegal, and none of it ever happened, understand?" Draco met Charlie's gaze steadily, making sure the dragonologist knew what he meant before he even started to explain.

After a few seconds of silence, Charlie nodded. "We'll get George to help with a story to feed to the Minister."

Draco relaxed. "Short version, Tom gave us a Dark ritual to find Reggie. Harry killed them all."

"Where is Harry?" Narcissa asked, Reggie balanced on her hip and she ran her fingers through his hair soothingly.

"He…his magic was unstable," Draco whispered. "He's having an overflow."

"What does that mean?" Charlie demanded. "Is he going to be alright?"

Draco slumped against the redhead, arm stilled pulled over his shoulder. "I…don't know." He felt Charlie squeeze his arm bracingly and pulled away. "Kreacher? Winky?" he asked.

The pair of elves appeared with a pop. "Mister Malfoy called?"

"Winky, can you help my mother take care of Reggie?" he asked, carefully phrasing it as a question due to his Wizengamot restrictions. Winky nodded and scurried off with Narcissa. "Kreacher, could you take these back to the artefact room?" The old elf took the three wands, Voldemort's yew wand still tacky with drying blood, and vanished.

"Now what?" Charlie asked, following as Draco headed inside.

"Now we wait for Harry."

Harry hissed in pain as he landed on his knees in the back garden of Malfoy Manor, naked and exhausted. He fell forward and pressed his forehead to the charred ground, breathing hard.

The sun broke the horizon.

_Harry?_

Harry rolled his head to the side, looking to where a miniature portrait was propped against the base of a tree. He blinked.

_They came back about two hours ago,_ Tom told him. _They're just fine._

_Good,_ Harry sighed. _I killed them all, Tom,_ he whispered.

_And the bodies?_

_Ashes,_ he answered, _along with the rest of the house._

_Good._

Harry pulled himself up and over to the portrait to pick it up, ignoring Tom's flustered requests for him to put on pants.

"Harry!"

"Draco," he sighed, slumping against the blond's chest as strong arms wrapped around him. "It's finally over, Draco."


End file.
